


Tea & Cake

by honeyedlion



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M, Rimming, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyedlion/pseuds/honeyedlion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ciel gets taught a few manners. They don't really stick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea & Cake

It is late when Sebastian comes into the library, a tall three-pronged candlestick in one hand. Ciel hears the door open distantly but doesn’t bother to look up. The book he is reading is much more interesting, and besides it is only Sebastian. He lifts the teacup beside him, only to notice it is empty. One handed he reaches for the teapot, and pours without looking.

He pauses. Empty.

“Sebastian.”

“Young master.”

“I am out of tea. Also I want a slice of cake.” Ciel pauses, as though musing over his words, eyes never leaving the book in front of his nose. “Yes, cake.”

Sebastian sets the candlestick down, looking at Ciel from the doorway. He's curled into the largest armchair in the room, his legs tucked under him, arms settled neatly into his lap. His shoes lay discarded on the floor, and his frocked coat is draped over the settee near him.

“Does the young master know what time it is?”

Ciel makes a clicking sound with his teeth, and pulls the book a little higher, blocking Sebastian from view. “Is the butler hard of hearing? Tea, and cake. Now, please and thank you.”

Sebastian walks across the room. The library smells pleasantly of paper, a surprisingly warm smell even on cold nights, and leather, and the sharp smell of ink. Ciel is ignoring him, rather pointedly, although one small hand points from the side of the book at the tea set, as though directing him to it’s location.

Sebastian leans down, and kisses the tip of the pointing finger.

Ciel freezes.

The finger is small and smooth against his mouth, and cold, so he begins by brushing his lips over it, in a slow, rhythmic motion, his head bobbing ever so slightly with the movement. Ciel’s skin is smooth, so smooth, hands that have never worked, and as long as Sebastian is here, never will. His mouth opens slightly, just enough for the finger to slip in, and suckles lightly on the tip, before laving his tongue across the top. Ciel’s skin tastes like paper, and salt, and skin. Sebastian makes a noise of quiet agreement, and sinks his mouth lower around the finger.

He hears the book close, with a soft thump, and Ciel’s breathing picks up unsteadily. Sebastian hollows his cheeks as he sucks, nibbling gentle teeth over the ridges around his nails. He pulls back slowly, sucking hard, tongue wrapping around the finger as though it was trying to stay, and when his mouth finally leaves with an audible pop, Ciel whimpers slightly.

Sebastian straightens easily. “Does the young master really not realize the time? It is time for bed.”

Ciel lies panting on the chair, eyes wide with want, and cheeks flushing beguilingly. His mouth is soft and red where he had bitten into his lower lip, and when he lifts one hand, reaching out to Sebastian, the man only smiles. Infuriatingly so.

Ciel reaches up, and traces a single finger over his curved, smirking lips.

“No, Sebastian.” And he watches that pretty face go utterly still, a sure sign he had surprised the man. The demon. “And next time you decide to kiss something, I have a suggestion.”

Sebastian stands there, still smiling as Ciel picks back up his book, and flips it open, turning a page infuriatingly slow. He skims down the page, and Sebastian can feel the smirk building in the boy, before he can see it.

A single, pale hand comes out from behind the leather bound volume, and makes a small shooing gesture. “Tea and cake, Sebastian. And would you hurry?”

A small pause, in which Ciel pretends to read, rather studiously, and Sebastian stands incredibly still. He had just been dismissed. For cake. Sebastian Michaelis, Phantomhive butler, had just been dismissed, and shooed out of the room, for cake.

This would never do. A Phantomhive butler who could not put his master to bed, was not worth his salt, and Sebastian, in all areas was worth much more than that.

Ciel let out a squawk, as he was lifted bodily from the chair, dropping his book in surprise. The book, fell onto the side table, took out the empty teapot, before finally settling on the floor. In the meantime, Sebastian has bent Ciel over the side of the armchair, and pulled his trousers down to his knees, his shirt rucked up, so the man could see the delicate knobs of his spine, and the large marring mark on his back.

“Sebastian.” Ciel says, as calmly as he can with his bum sticking out in the air, and the feeling of Sebastian casually licking his spine. “What exactly are you doing? This is not even slightly close to cake.”

“No, but young master said he had another idea of a place for me to kiss. I assume he is too refined to have specified that he meant it a little lower?” Ciel can feel Sebastian’s smirk curving at the base of his back, and begins to feel slightly nervous. Yes, he had meant to provoke the man, but he hadn’t meant to- to challenge him. That usually ended badly for them (or for Meylene who had to clean up the stains) and ended with him getting nothing done.

“Yes, well, I didn’t mean you had to do that, right this- ohfuckgodSebastian-“

Ciel hangs his head down into the seat, right as Sebastian raises his own, from where it had been pressed. “Yes, young master?”

And then before Ciel could respond, his head dips back down, tongue sliding in a slick, hot line between the smooth white curves of Ciel’s ass to lap at his entrance. Ciel’s back arches into a painful looking curve, his head flinging upwards, teeth sinking into the soft pout of his lower lip. Sebastian’s tongue slides into an abrupt point, and Ciel stiffens further, before groaning.

“Sebastian, what are- what-“ He shudders, his hips pushing involuntarily backwards, greedy for the feeling, the intense, spiraling sensations his butler’s tongue is causing. He can feel himself, hard and aching, the length of his cock pressing heavily into the leather armchair Sebastian has him bent over, and he doesn’t know where to move. Every twitch of his body makes him cry out, and when Sebastian slides a finger into him, he shudders and rolls his hips.

Sebastian smirks, and lifts his head, and Ciel doesn’t have to see him to know his eyes are lit with all the fires of hell, his smirk just as wicked. “I am just fulfilling the young master’s order. Did the young master wish me to stop?”

Ciel lets his forehead rest on the arm of the chair, body still wracked through with tremors. He feels loose, and wet, and ugh, down there, and he's still painfully hard. He shudders again, and his hips push weakly into the armchair. But, but he has pride. He is Earl Ciel Phantomhive, and no butler can win against him. “Actually,” Ciel pants, and raises his head from where it was resting against his arms. “I believe I asked for cake, Sebastian, not- nng…”

Sebastian looks back up, and smiles, his eyes crinkling into merry curves. “Sorry, young master, I cannot hear you. Try speaking louder?”

Ciel, however, is beyond speaking. Sebastian is pushing at him so earnestly, and every wicked slide of his tongue makes his breath catch. His thighs are trembling, mouth red and gaping as Sebastian’s tongue flickers into him, pausing to rub in a teasing circle, to stiffen, and try to spread him as far as his mouth can.

One gloved hand slides from a pale cheek, to the curve of his hip. And then, slides just a little lower.

“Se-Sebastian!” Ciel thrusts deliriously forward, back arching desperately to keep Sebastian as close to him as he can, in all ways. He feels like his brains are dribbling out through his ears, and his legs quake, muscles straining and aching, every breath coming in a rushing pant.

“Young master.” And Ciel moans anew at that silken voice so close to his ear. “Come for me, please?”

“Sebastian!”

Sebastian steps back, a pleased smile on his face, and removes his soiled glove with his teeth. His young master looks debauched, bent over a leather chair, a mess staining the floor, and trousers around his ankles. It' delicious.

It's infuriating, Ciel thinks, and grits his teeth, as his breath began to return to him. He stands, a little shakily, and pulls his pants up, wincing at the feel of how sticky he is. Well. No matter. He has a point to prove.

Ciel sits gingerly in the leather chair, picks up his book from the floor beside him (making sure to avoid the broken teapot) and opens it pointedly with shaky fingers. Then he smirks.

“Tea, Sebastian, and cake. And please, clean up the mess you made.”

Checkmate.

**Author's Note:**

> Prove your [point](http://honeyedlion.tumblr.com/). Or submit a request.


End file.
